


I Love the Way You Hurt Me, Baby

by WevyrDove



Series: Heaven and Hell [3]
Category: Supernatural, destiel - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Bondage, Bottom!Cas, Demon!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Hurt!Cas, Hurt!Sam, M/M, Torture, angel demon sex, angel!cas - Freeform, dubcon, post season 9 divergent, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WevyrDove/pseuds/WevyrDove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's grace continues to wane, even as Dean grows stronger. When Dean captures his brother, Castiel offers himself to Dean in exchange for Sam's freedom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love the Way You Hurt Me, Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetheartdean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetheartdean/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [I Love the Way You Hurt Me, Baby 翻译](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415572) by [destielarmyCN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielarmyCN/pseuds/destielarmyCN)



> Title taken from lyrics of Fall Out Boy's "Irresistible". I've been sitting on this fic for awhile, tinkering with it and rewriting portions, struggling with angst and doubt. Here it is finally. It's the 3rd installment for my "Heaven and Hell" series but can be read as a standalone fic. 
> 
> This fic is dedicated to [Mary_Twist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Twist/pseuds/Mary_Twist) who created the amazing artwork for my wincest big bang fic "[Sins of the Brother](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4756670/chapters/10875164)". I hope you enjoy the story! xoxox

Castiel was frantic. Dean had called him and confirmed his worst fears. Dean had Sam.

Castiel drove erratically, the Continental swerving between lanes on the highway. He was sick with guilt and worry. It was his fault that Sam had gone after Dean by himself; Castiel had refused to let Sam join him when he had started searching for Dean. Yet Sam had apologized, his voice shaky and fearful, when Dean had let him speak on the phone; _I’m so sorry, Cas_.

Castiel accelerated to pass a large semi on his left. He wished he could fly, but he was down to the last dregs of his borrowed grace. To describe it in human terms, he felt like he had a severe case of flu, except that rest and fluids would do nothing for him. The only cure for his condition was more grace. But Castiel refused to hurt another angel in order to get it. He hoped the little grace remaining was enough to save Sam. Dean had given Castiel their location, his tone confident and relaxed, as if he knew that Castiel was no real threat to him. Meanwhile, Castiel was certain that Dean was becoming stronger with every kill. Castiel didn’t believe that Dean would really hurt would hurt Sam too badly; all his previous victims had been anonymous.

Castiel needed to believe that there was still a flicker of humanity left in Dean.

…

“Cas…” Dean drawled when Castiel showed up at the abandoned warehouse. “What took you so long, angel?” He was holding an angel blade in one hand. Sam was sitting in a chair behind Dean, slumped and bloody. His wrists and ankles were bound, and he was tied to the chair with a thick length of rope. His eyes were full of fear when he chanced to look at Castiel. He was silent, gagged with a dirty strip of cloth.

“Oh that’s right.” Dean continued. “You can’t fly anymore.” Dean cocked his head. “You still driving that yellow monstrosity?”

Castiel ignored Dean’s taunts. “Dean.” He said sharply. “Let Sam go.”

“Hmmm. And what do I get in return?” Dean asked, still playing with the blade, flipping it back and forth with a deft flick of his fingers.

“Take me.” Castiel offered. He kept his voice and demeanor steady. Sam was shaking his head, his eyes beseeching Castiel.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, angel?” Dean said knowingly. “What if I want to keep you both?”

Castiel growled. “I won’t let you hurt Sam.”

“I already have.” Dean sneered. He turned to look at Sam who cowered under his brother’s scrutiny, then he looked back at Castiel expectantly.

“Let him go, Dean.” Castiel demanded. He expended a small amount of grace to make himself look more threatening, his eyes glowing electric blue.

Dean smiled and tucked the blade into his belt. “I have missed you, Cas. How long has it been since I last humiliated you?”

Castiel forced himself to remain impassive, despite the emotions roiling within him. “Let him go, and I will do anything you want.”

“Anything?” Dean grinned, his eyes changing to obsidian.

Sam was shaking his head more vigorously now, struggling to speak despite the cloth in his mouth.

“Anything.” Castiel challenged. He was blustering with a confidence he didn’t feel. But if he could convince Dean to release Sam, it would be worth it.

“Deal.” Dean nodded. “Should we seal it with a kiss?” He added with a smirk, taking a step toward Castiel.

“No.” Castiel said flatly.

Dean shrugged and then snapped his fingers. Sam’s bonds disappeared, and he fell off the chair; the rope had been the only thing holding him upright. Castiel ran to Sam, crouching down and helping Sam sit up by putting an arm under his shoulders.

“Are you ok, Sam?” Castiel asked quietly. The older Winchester’s face was bruised and swollen, and dried blood crusted around his nose and mouth. His shirt was stiff with blood stains.

Sam offered a smile, and then winced when his split lip started bleeding anew. He coughed and then whispered. “I’m so sorry, Cas.”

Castiel shook his head, there wasn’t time for this now. He started checking Sam for serious injuries but Sam pushed his hands away.

“I promise I’m ok.” Sam tried to reassure Castiel. “You- you have to be careful. You don’t know how far gone he is.” He looked meaningfully at Castiel, and Castiel knew Sam was wondering about the state of his grace.

“I’m fine, Sam. Go home.” Castiel said softly.

He wished he could spare some grace to heal Sam’s wounds, but he needed it all if he was to stay with Dean. Sam struggled to stand, and Castiel supported him. His shirt fell open so Castiel could see where Dean had sliced him with the knife. He stifled a gasp when he saw the shape of the cuts. Dean had carved his initials into Sam’s flesh; it was a garish imitation of their childhood etchings in the Impala. Sam leaned on Castiel heavily and groaned with pain. Castiel had to use both arms to hold him up.

“No chick flick moments.” Dean interrupted. “I’m impatient to claim what’s mine.” He leered at Castiel and then smiled indulgently at his brother.

“Bye, bye, Sammy.” Dean waved his fingers and Sam was gone. Castiel gasped and stumbled, almost losing his balance when Sam disappeared from his arms. He stood up and glared at Dean.

“Where did you send him?” Castiel demanded.

“Just back to the bunker.” Dean said casually. “He’ll be fine. His wounds are superficial.”

Castiel clenched his jaw but otherwise didn’t betray any reaction to Dean’s words. Dean stepped up to him and smiled lazily. Being this close to Dean, it was difficult for Castiel to think clearly. It had been months since they last saw each other, months since Castiel had claimed Dean in a dirty back alley. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to see Dean again, and that he had rushed here merely for Sam’s sake. Castiel found himself trembling as he braced himself for the demon’s touch. Instead, Dean merely walked a circle around Castiel, his eyes flicking over Castiel’s frame.

“You don’t look so good, angel.” Dean commented lightly. He plucked an imaginary hair off of Castiel’s coat. “How have you been feeling?”

“Why should you care?” Castiel gritted. It was difficult to resist lunging at Dean; but whether to attack him or kiss him, Castiel wasn’t sure.

Dean made an exaggerated pout. “I’m worried about you.” Dean reached into his jacket and Castiel tensed. “Easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Castiel relaxed slightly when he saw the small vial that Dean produced in his hand. Then he tensed up again, noting the soft blue glow that emanated from the container.

“Who?” Castiel asked with anguish, his eyes staring in horror at the vial and then up at Dean’s face.

Dean had offered to obtain more grace for Castiel at their last meeting. Castiel had refused of course, knowing the horrible cost of restoring his power that way. He should have known that Dean didn’t want or need permission to kill angels. Even though Castiel had made Dean his crusade, some of his brothers and sisters had tried to help despite Castiel’s warnings; they had all perished. In truth, Castiel knew it was only his bond with Dean that had preventing him from destroying Castiel sooner.

“Does it matter?” Dean asked, holding the vial up in front of Castiel’s face. “If they’re already dead, then why not take it?”

Castiel shook his head. “I will not.” He responded grimly, even though he knew what Dean was saying actually made sense. There was no bringing back the angel that had died just so Dean could slake his bloodthirst. The difference was, this time Dean had saved the angel’s grace. But Castiel refused to accept Dean’s gifts; it was blasphemy.

“I have more too.” Dean nodded as if Castiel had agreed. “I didn’t know how much it would take to make you whole again.”

“How many?” Castiel asked in a strangled voice.

“A dozen, give or take.” Dean shrugged. He shook his jacket and Castiel could hear the jangle of the vials bumping against each other.

“No.” Castiel gasped in anguish. He suddenly felt so tired. He sank to his knees, despair and exhaustion threatening to claim him.

“On your knees already, angel?” Dean smirked. He tucked the vial back in his jacket. He crouched down next to Castiel. He lifted Castiel’s chin so the angel was forced to look at him. “You are mine.”

Castiel didn’t deny it.

…

They reappeared in a large bedroom. Its centerpiece was a giant canopied bed, dressed in pristine white. The room was decorated in shades of ivory and taupe, with minimal furniture. Dean released Castiel’s shoulder as soon as they arrived, busying himself with opening the curtains to a view of a vast city. Castiel didn’t recognize it. He only knew that they were on a very high floor of what must be some sort of hotel.

“Where are we?” Castiel asked grimly. He stood stiffly where Dean had left him.

“One of the many hotels that Crowley owns. This one happens to be in Shanghai.” Dean answered. “I’m borrowing it.” He grinned at Castiel and added, “Without permission.”

Dean grabbed Castiel’s shoulders and walked him toward the bed. Castiel let him steer him and push him into a sitting position on the bed, but he kept his body rigid and unyielding.

“That’s how we’re gonna play it?” Dean asked. “I like it.”

“I’m not playing.” Castiel said flatly.

“Oh, yes you are.” Dean growled. He snapped his fingers and Castiel’s clothes were gone. Before Castiel could react, Dean snapped his fingers again and he was bound spread eagle to the bed. He tugged at his bonds but they were unyielding. There was a ball gag in Castiel’s mouth, which was just large enough to be uncomfortable. There were sigils carved into the leather cuffs; angel traps that would prevent Castiel from using his powers. In Castiel’s current state, they probably weren’t even necessary.

Dean raked his gaze over Castiel’s body. “I was hoping you’d be more pliant and willing.” He said darkly. “But this is good too.”

Castiel let himself be limp. There was no point in struggling and wasting his strength if he was constrained by sigils. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore his growing erection.

“Look at me.” Dean snapped.

Castiel’s eyes flew open when he felt a searing pain. He cried out, his voice muffled around the gag. His jaw was aching already and he was drooling around the plastic ball. He looked down at himself; Dean had slashed his skin open along Castiel’s right side just under the ribcage. Blood was welling to the surface of the cut and dripping down, staining the white sheets and blankets. The metallic smell of his own blood reached Castiel’s nostrils and he felt nauseous. A bit of his precious grace escaped, trying to heal the wound, but Castiel willed it back. Dean smiled at Castiel, holding the angel blade in his hand.

“Are you going to listen?” Dean asked softly. “I don’t want to make too much of a mess.”

Castiel just stared at Dean, even though his eyes watered and he was breathing hard through his nose. Dean put the tip of the knife in the middle of Castiel’s chest. But instead of pressing down, Dean turned his wrist so the weapon lay flat on Castiel’s skin. Castiel would have flinched if he wasn’t afraid of being cut.

Dean dragged the flat of the blade downwards and past Castiel’s belly button. Castiel held himself still, hyper conscious of the sharp edge of the blade. Dean sliced a shallow stripe across Castiel’s body, right beneath his stomach, and again Castiel cried out in pain, his noises muffled around the ball gag. Again he reined his grace in. He couldn’t waste it healing non-lethal injuries. Dean bared his teeth and moved the blade lower. Castiel felt it skim across his rigid cock, barely touching. He held his breath and suppressed a shudder even as his cock twitched. Dean let the knife wander down lower along Castiel’s leg, and then flicked his wrist suddenly, opening up a gash on Castiel’s right thigh. This cut was deeper and longer, spanning the flesh from Castiel’s knee up to the juncture between his groin and thigh. Castiel sobbed with anguish, his voice muffled by the gag, while the wound bled and tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes. Dean pulled the knife away and placed it carefully on the stand next to the bed.

“Shhhhh.” Dean soothed, his black eyes glimmering as they focused on Castiel. He stroked Castiel’s sweat damp brow, smoothing away the stray strands of hair. “Poor angel.” He cooed mockingly. “Does it hurt?”

Castiel looked away from Dean and didn’t answer. The cuts on his side and stomach were only a dull throb now, and the bleeding had slowed, but the wound on his leg burned and was bleeding freely. He knew they were superficial cuts, meant to hurt and bleed rather than do any permanent damage, but without the ability to heal his wounds, he was finding out he had a low pain tolerance.

“I said, does it hurt?” Dean repeated. He gripped Castiel’s chin in one hand, turning the angel’s head so he was forced to look at him. “Answer me, angel.” His voice was soft, but his tone held the promise of more pain if Castiel didn’t oblige.

Castiel shook his head slightly, unwilling to give Dean this satisfaction. Dean grinned. He released Castiel and then reached down to wet his hand with the blood streaming from Castiel’s thigh. He made a show of sucking the blood off his fingers deliberately. Despite himself, Castiel felt his cock grow even harder.

“You taste good, angel.” Dean praised. He bent his head down and licked along Castiel’s thigh. The feel of Dean’s tongue along the gash made Castiel cry out with pain. Still, his cock twitched against his volition when Dean’s hair brushed lightly along his balls. Dean lifted his head, his mouth red with Castiel’s blood. He smiled garishly at Castiel.

“It hurts, doesn’t it, angel?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “But yet, you’re enjoying this.” Dean looked at Castiel’s cock and smirked.

Castiel shook his head. He blinked away more tears and stared up at the gauzy white canopy, the luxurious surroundings incongruous with the pain and humiliation he was feeling. His arms and legs ached from being held in place by his bonds. Sam had warned him that Dean was even farther gone than he had expected. Yes, they had been rough with each other previously, but this was the first time that Dean had wounded him. Castiel didn’t think Dean would truly injure him, but there was a flicker of doubt, which threatened to blossom into panic and terror.

Castiel’s only chance was to appeal to the last bit of humanity that remained inside Dean. After all, Sam was still alive. He tried to speak but the gag muffled his voice.

“What’s that, angel?” Dean asked facetiously. Castiel tried to speak again and Dean relented. He pulled the gag off and Castiel gasped, sucking in air and closing and opening his mouth to soothe his aching jaw. Dean regarded Castiel with amusement, but he tossed the gag away. He got on the bed and lay next to Castiel, propping himself up on one elbow. His body wasn’t quite touching Castiel’s, but Castiel could feel the brush of flannel and denim when Dean shifted.

“You should see yourself, Cas.” Dean drawled. “Tied up and begging for it. I already knew you were a cockslut but I never knew you wanted me to do this.” He gestured at the bonds.

“Dean.” Castiel coughed, his mouth still feeling raw after having the gag in his mouth. “Please. Listen to me.”

Dean nodded magnanimously. “Ok. I’ll let you say your piece.”

Castiel swallowed and took a breath. “Dean.” He looked Dean in the eyes, determined to hold his gaze despite the blackness of Dean’s stare. “I can still help you.”

Dean laughed harshly. “Really? That’s what you have to tell me? Angel, you’re mistaken.”

“Dean, it’s not too late.” Castiel pleaded. He knew how weak he must seem to Dean, naked and bleeding and bound to the bed, his cock leaking with need. He was counting on that though, that Dean would let down his guard and let Castiel convince him. “I know that part of you wants to come back to us.”

“Why would I want to become a pathetic human again?” Dean scoffed. “I’m more powerful now than I’ve ever been. Even Crowley is scared of me.”

“Dean. I know you’re still in there. If you weren’t…” Castiel hesitated before continuing. “You would have killed Sam. You would have destroyed me already.”

“You wish I was so merciful.” Dean purred. He let his hand rest on Castiel’s chest, and Castiel jerked at the touch. “Jumpy aren’t we?”

Dean stroked Castiel gently, letting his fingers travel down to the cut on Castiel’s side. Castiel couldn’t help flinching, but Dean only stroked the cut gently, sealing it with his power. When he reached down below Castiel’s stomach, Castiel sucked in a breath. Dean caressed the wound and healed it as he ran his fingers across it. Castiel let himself breathe out; his skin tingled with warmth where Dean had touched it. When Dean touched his thigh, Castiel groaned, and Dean gave him a sinful smile as he knitted the skin back together with a swipe of his hand. Dean left the blood that stained the sheets and Castiel’s skin.

“You’re so hard for me, angel.” Dean observed, his voice thick with desire. He let his palm ghost over Castiel’s erection, pulling his hand away when Castiel thrust upward. “Beg for it.” Dean commanded.

Castiel shook his head and Dean frowned and got off the bed. Castiel’s face was burning with humiliation even as he yearned for Dean’s touch. His cock was throbbing with need, but he couldn’t touch himself while he was bound. Dean stood at the foot of the bed and observed him with amusement.

“How far the mighty have fallen.” Dean commented. “This was more fun when you weren’t so powerless.”

Castiel refused to be provoked, and didn’t offer a response.

“Look at me.” Dean growled, and when Castiel looked away, Dean raised his hand and flicked his wrist, and an invisible hand grabbed Castiel’s head and forced Castiel to face him. “Don’t try me.” He warned. His face softened again and he released his hold. “I could make this so good for you.”

Castiel wasn’t prepared when Dean pounced and straddled him. He ground his hips down, the fabric of his jeans dragging across Castiel’s cock, drawing a moan from the angel. He started rolling his hips in a circle and Castiel whined and rutted against him. Castiel was still sticky with dried blood and the sheets were damp where he had bled onto them, but he barely noticed these things as Dean moved above him. Dean dipped his head down to Castiel’s neck and nipped him, and the sucked at the skin until a bruise bloomed under his lips. Castiel tugged at his bonds, the tough leather bands chafing at his skin. Dean raised his head and captured Castiel’s lips with his own, thrusting his tongue into the angel’s mouth. Castiel moaned and squirmed under Dean, his mind empty of anything but the sensation of the demon ravaging his mouth with rough kisses, his stubble dragging along Castiel’s skin, his body hot and insistent against Castiel’s naked skin. Dean broke the kiss.

“Goddamnit, angel.” Dean gasped against Castiel’s lips. “I need to be inside you.” Castiel moaned in response, feeling triumph and relief at the demon’s words; this is what he needed from Dean.

Dean climbed off of Castiel and removed his clothes swiftly, his own cock rigid and swollen. Castiel whimpered when Dean repositioned him on the bed, adjusting the bonds so that Castiel was farther down on the bed and his legs higher and spread even wider. He knelt between Castiel’s legs and stroked his thighs.

“Dean…” Castiel moaned, wriggling against his bonds, desperate for Dean to touch his cock.

Dean smirked. He moved his hands down to Castiel’s ass, palming it and squeezing roughly. He pushed Castiel’s ass cheeks apart, admiring the angel’s opening. Then he bent his head.

“Dean!” Castiel choked out when Dean’s tongue touched him. Dean had never put his mouth there before. It felt so profane and sinful, which only increased Castiel’s pleasure. He groaned and twisted as much as his bonds would allow, trying to push against Dean’s face. Dean pulled away and looked up at Castiel, shaking his head at him.

Castiel whined and squirmed and Dean pushed two fingers into him without warning. Castiel cried out in surprise, but was soon keening as Dean started thrusting his fingers in and out of Castiel’s hole.

“Yeah, you missed this, huh?” Dean nodded. He added a third finger without slowing his pace.

“Dean!” Castiel panted, not attempting to hide his need and desire anymore. “Please!”

Dean paused. “Please what?”

“Please, fuck me. Fuck me, Dean!” Castiel keened.

Dean chuckled low in his throat. “That’s what I like to hear, angel.”

Dean pulled his fingers out and then gripped Castiel’s legs, pulling Castiel closer. He grabbed his own cock and pumped a few times, biting his lip as he looked at Castiel. The angel was bloodied and bound, his hair and eyes wild as they watched Dean intently. Dean met Castiel’s gaze as he pressed the head of his cock against Castiel’s opening. Castiel shut his eyes and braced himself for Dean to force himself inside violently, but instead the demon pushed in slowly. Castiel opened his eyes and found Dean watching him as he continued to move into him, his eyes a familiar shade of green. Castiel held his breath, afraid to break the spell. Dean had a soft smile on his face, and Castiel wanted so badly to pretend that this was his Dean; before the Mark, before he had died and been reborn as a Knight of Hell. Only the metallic smell of blood and the bite of the leather straps on his skin kept him grounded in reality.

When Dean was fully seated, he pressed his lips gently against Castiel’s, who flinched in expectation of a rough kiss. Dean kissed the side of Castiel’s mouth, tracing the line of Castiel’s jaw with the lightest brush of his lips. Castiel tensed, sensing an ulterior motive. Dean moved his hips at an excruciatingly slow pace, so Castiel could feel every inch of him as he thrust. Castiel’s mouth opened and he moaned as Dean continued to kiss him. He felt Dean’s hands on his face, his hair, his shoulders and chest, still soft and gentle touches. Castiel melted under Dean’s caresses; he was starting to let his guard down. Castiel didn’t notice that Dean was reaching one hand under the pillows even while he continued to kiss Castiel and move inside of him.

Dean had a bottle of grace in his hand. He pressed his face into Castiel’s neck and turned his head, still rolling his hips as he pulled the cork out with his teeth. He put the bottle against his lips, and let the grace flow into his mouth. It burned and tasted vile to his demon senses, but he only needed to hold it for a moment. He turned and covered Castiel’s mouth with his own, pushing the grace out with his tongue and breath and transferring it to Castiel. Castiel’s eyes flew open and he tried to twist away but Dean held him fast and already the grace was trickling down his throat, finding a home in Castiel’s vessel. Castiel’s eyes glowed electric blue as the power returned to his vessel. He ripped out of his bonds violently and pushed Dean off of him with enough force that the demon was thrown off the bed, landing on the floor with a thump.

Dean lay on the floor smiling triumphantly, his eyes black again now, even as Castiel loomed over him.

“You could say ‘thank you’.” He suggested, leering at Castiel.

“You tricked me.” Castiel growled. The angel’s hands were balled into fists.

“It was a gift.” Dean answered evenly. “Don’t you feel better? I have plenty more.”

“I don’t need your gifts.” Castiel said scathingly. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Oh, but there is one thing you need.” Dean taunted.

Castiel snarled and grabbed Dean by the arm, lifting him up from the floor easily and then slamming him against the wall, pressing his arm down on Dean’s windpipe. Dean coughed but continued to smile mockingly, not struggling as Castiel pinned him there.

“Your gift is working against you.” Castiel observed. “I could hurt you.”

Dean coughed again and Castiel relented, easing the pressure of his arm against Dean’s neck so he could speak.

“Please do.” Dean rasped with a wicked grin.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. He knew that Dean wanted him strong again so they could fight. But Castiel didn’t want to hurt Dean. He still believed that Dean could be saved. Suddenly, Dean pulled out of Castiel’s grasp and grabbed the angel’s arms, pinning them down by his sides. Castiel struggled but Dean was still much stronger; he had been pretending to be weaker when Castiel had pressed him against the wall. Still, Castiel felt better now than he had in months. He stopped struggling and crushed his mouth against Dean’s, pushing the demon back against the wall again. Dean responded immediately; his hands went to Castiel’s back and his nails dug painfully into Castiel’s skin. He pulled Castiel flush against him so their cocks pressed together. Castiel bit down hard on Dean’s lower lip. He ran his tongue over the cut, tasting Dean’s blood; blood that wasn’t purely human anymore, but which tasted of fire and brimstone and iron. Dean sucked on Castiel’s tongue and moved his hips, making them both moan with pleasure as their cocks stroked against each other. Dean’s hands moved down to Castiel’s ass and squeezed. Castiel didn’t stop Dean when he lifted him easily, one hand cupping each buttock.

Dean walked back to the bed, still holding Castiel, and sat Castiel down on the edge. Dean stayed standing. Castiel moaned and didn’t resist as Dean pushed his legs open and up. Instead he lay back on his elbows and rested his ankles on Dean’s shoulders obligingly. He felt Dean’s fingers finding his opening and sliding inside. Castiel clenched around Dean’s hand, keening with the need to be filled. His cock twitched against his stomach, the head sloppy with precum. Dean panted as he pressed his fingers deep into Castiel, who continued to moan and watch Dean as he fucked him with his hand.

“Cas.” Dean groaned. “I need you.”

Castiel let out a sob at the familiar words; a distant memory from when Dean had once been at Castiel’s mercy, and Castiel had nearly killed him under the haze of Naomi’s brainwashing. Only the sound of his name and the wretched plea in Dean’s words finally broke through to him. Now they were too far gone, and those words wouldn’t be enough to save either of them. Did Dean mean to echo those words, even though now Castiel was the one at Dean’s mercy? Castiel had so much he needed to say to Dean, but he could only grunt and pant as Dean continued to move his fingers inside of him. Castiel let out a whine of protest when Dean slid his fingers out, but quieted when he saw Dean grab his own cock. Dean rested his other hand on Castiel’s thigh, and let his cock head brush against Castiel’s opening. Castiel pushed up to meet Dean and Dean didn’t stop him. Dean sank into Castiel as Castiel lifted his hips to take him inside faster and deeper. They both cried out when Dean bottomed out. Castiel kept his eyes locked on Dean’s face as they started moving together; the grace that glowed in Castiel’s eyes was reflected back in Dean’s eyes. Castiel didn’t think about the source of his new vitality; right now he could only focus on the bliss he felt as Dean gripped his legs and continued to thrust into him.

Dean pushed Castiel further onto the bed and then raised himself onto the bed, leaning forward and resting his weight on Castiel; Castiel let his legs slip off of Dean’s shoulders and wrap around Dean’s back, pulling Dean closer and tighter to him. Dean bent down and kissed Castiel, and Castiel returned the kiss with reckless urgency. Their movements were desperate, as if this might be one of the last times they could be together before each would inevitably have to destroy the other or be destroyed. Their hands moved over each other’s chests and shoulders, caressing and grabbing and scratching. Dean reached down to grasp Castiel’s cock and stroked up and down roughly, drawing an anguished moan from the angel. Their movements grew more erratic as their bodies surged together, straining to reach climax. Castiel put his hands in Dean’s hair, pulling him down so he could kiss him forcefully, so that they were connected and close as possible when they finally reached the pinnacle together.

Castiel’s scream was muffled by Dean’s mouth, his hips jerking involuntarily so he thrust into Dean’s grasp and came convulsively; his wings struggled to unfurl beneath his back as he bucked against Dean, but they were trapped underneath. Dean emitted an anguished sob that Castiel felt at the very core of his being. Dean rammed himself hard and deep, his eyes squeezed shut, a litany of curses falling from his lips as he filled Castiel with his seed. They clutched each other hard, nails digging into each other’s skin, finding each other’s mouths again, swallowing each other’s cries as they writhed in ecstasy.

It felt as if they were suspended in pleasure for a moment, and Castiel clung to it as long as he dared. Dean collapsed on top of Castiel, his body burning hot to the touch, his brow sweaty and his eyes still closed. Castiel still held Dean in his arms, though he had relaxed his legs and let them fall apart. Dean lay his head in the crook of Castiel’s neck. Castiel put one hand gently on the back of Dean’s head, stroking his hair gently. When Dean shifted and looked up at Castiel, the gaze that he met was green. Castiel’s heart lurched in his chest, but he knew better than to hope. He saw pain and regret in Dean’s eyes, the things he would never voice to Castiel now that they were enemies. Castiel still didn’t speak, afraid of breaking the truce that their bodies had declared for them. He continued to stroke Dean’s hair, and Dean lay his head down again, his eyes shutting. Castiel felt drowsy, something that he shouldn’t have been feeling, especially with his temporarily restored grace. He looked down at Dean. With his eyes shut, his long lashes fanned across his freckled cheeks, and his mouth slack, Dean looked innocent and untroubled. His breathing was deep and regular, almost as if he had fallen asleep. But, demons didn’t need sleep, Castiel thought faintly as he felt himself drifting off.

…

When Castiel awoke, he was back at the bunker. He was in bed, dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, but he ached all over. His head pounded and he felt weak. He felt worse than before Dean had forced him to swallow the vial of stolen grace. But how could that be? He tried to sit up and groaned as a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. A moment later it subsided and Castiel tried to get out of bed, but his legs buckled under him and he fell to the floor. He moaned with pain, curling up into himself as he lay there.

Sam burst into the room. “Cas!” He gasped, rushing over to Castiel and crouching down. “Don’t try to get up.”

“Well, well.” A familiar voice drawled. “Castiel. How far you have fallen.” Castiel didn’t need to look up to see who had spoken.

“What is Crowley doing here?” Castiel spat.

“I’m here to help.” Crowley said plainly. “We have a common problem. And its name is Dean Winchester.”

Castiel glared at Crowley. “We don’t need your help.” He gritted, even as he clutched his heaving stomach.

Sam squeezed Castiel’s shoulder and looked apologetic. “I called him.”

Castiel gaped at Sam and then turned back to Crowley. “How do we know we can trust you?”

“I want Dean back to human as badly as you and Sam do. He’s been mucking up things in hell, trying to overthrow me.” Crowley grimaced. “Also, he made a bloody mess of one of my favorite penthouse suites, literally. Destroyed a brand new set of sheets, leaving bloodstains and black feathers everywhere. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” Crowley frowned at Castiel.

Castiel reddened, images of how Dean had used him so thoroughly playing in his mind. Sam’s eyes widened but before he could ask, Crowley continued. “And as much as you detest me, I think you know that things would be much worse with Dean in charge downstairs.” Crowley made an exasperated sound. “The man knows nothing about running a bureaucracy.”

Sam nodded curtly. “We need his help, Cas.”

Crowley crouched down by Castiel, and put his hands on either side of Castiel’s head. Castiel tried to twist away but Crowley held him fast. Crowley released him a moment later and the haze of pain dissipated.

“Seems that your demon boyfriend fed you some poisoned grace.” Crowley sniffed, standing again. “You’re welcome, by the by.”

Castiel gaped at the demon and then remembered himself and stood up as well. He spoke grudgingly. “Thank you.”

“I hope that show of good faith will convince you. Because I’m going to need your trust and more.” Crowley spoke brusquely.

“Yes.” Sam said quickly. Castiel nodded curtly.

“Good.” Crowley approved. “Because you won’t like what I have to tell you.”

“I don’t like anything you have to tell me.” Castiel snapped. Sam shot him a warning look but Castiel shook his head. Just because he had to work with Crowley didn’t mean he had to be his friend.

“Fine.” Crowley shot back. “I was going to explain this to you more gently, but clearly as you don’t deserve such treatment, I’ll cut to the chase.” He bared his teeth at Castiel. Castiel hissed at the demon. 

“What would you do to save Dean Winchester?” Crowley asked darkly, directing his question to Castiel.

“Anything.” Castiel responded immediately, his eyes narrowed at Crowley.

“Anything.” Crowley repeated. He smiled broadly. “Would you die to save Dean Winchester?”

Sam protested immediately, the look on his face haunted and anguished. “No! There must be another way-“

“Yes.” Castiel interrupted.

“Cas!” Sam pleaded. “We can try-“

“No.” Castiel growled. “We’ve already let him hurt too many people. If this is the only way, then I happily make my sacrifice.”

Sam slumped his shoulders. “I’ll keep looking for another way.” He said somberly, but his voice was full of defeat. “There must be something…”

“You should save your energy, Moose.” Crowley said, shaking his head.

Sam started arguing with Crowley, suggesting different approaches, insisting that he only needed more time to research. Crowley humored Sam, and pretended to listen. Castiel wasn’t listening to them anymore. He felt a calm wash over him, along with a strange sort of relief. He would do anything for Dean. He was willing to sacrifice himself for Dean.

He had known after all, even though he hadn’t dared put words to it before.

Castiel loved Dean.

He had always loved Dean.


End file.
